Sandro Tries to Drown
I wade. I watch. I stumble. I trip over my feet. I am gasping; breath does not come easy, water does. Water fills my lungs, my kidneys, stomach and my swelling throat. I am a snapped vein, everything pouring out my fingertips and my feet. I am a broken artery. I was of life, and now I am a deflated vessel. I want to lie flat. I do. I want the weeds to wrap around my ankles. Please, let me be consumed by the ocean’s cold, let the water take me. As I stumble, don’t allow my hands to find the sand. Don’t allow the ground to catch me. I want to fall. I never want the sick feeling in my stomach to fall away. It didn’t cleanse or wash me, it didn’t take me away, put me in a riptide or have a wave clean my organs. The water left me hollow. At the end of the night, I am nearly naked, and I trudge through sharp tides, looking for land but hoping it’s not there. My only light is the moon, and so I have none. I hear Nina screaming my name for a while, but then it falls silent, and all I hear is the waves digging its fingers into the calm.